


Take Care

by Admin Cock (Admin_Cock)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, F/M, Pre-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Vaginal Fingering, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), long-time pining, traveling through a blizzard because you desire a wanted outlaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 19:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Admin_Cock/pseuds/Admin%20Cock
Summary: You’ve always taken care of whatever jobs Flaco has for you. Maybe he should return the favor?





	Take Care

What kind of twisted mind did you have to think this was even remotely a good idea?

Your long-coat was lined with dense fur, but it did little to nothing to keep warmth in your bones as you pressed on through the blizzard. Whether by pure memory or dumb luck, your horse seemed to recall the familiar path through the snowy wilds that lead up to the frozen lake. Snow clung to your eyelashes in thick clumps and frozen, effectively prevented you from seeing more than a foot or two in front of your horse’s head. You could only pray that the blizzard had deterred the wolves from leaving the safety of their dens, because there was no way in hell you’d be able to get a proper shot on any of them with how violently your body shook with chill.

As the pair of you quickly ode through the small creek, you winced and again asked yourself why on earth you made the journey out here?

Maybe it was because you liked money, or killing, or both. Maybe it was because of the warmth that tingled your fingertips every time you returned to the small cabin in the middle of nowhere with a smoking gun and a few more numbers on your body count. Maybe it was that grin you got every time those gloved hands hands you a fat stack of cash for each job you completed without fail.

Or maybe, it was purely Flaco Hernández.

Yes, you were deep in cahoots with the infamously wanted outlaw and gunslinger. You’d met him by accident one evening, coincidentally also during a blizzard. You’d effectively gotten completely lost on your way to meet a man by the name of Hamish Sinclair and found yourself up to your knees in snow. You’s almost cried aloud when you stumbled upon the little cabin nestled in the trees by the frozen lake, quickly rushing over and settling your mount in a makeshift stall next to the building before pushing inside. Whether it was a good or rather horrible twist of fate that you had found yourself face to face with the barrel of a gun that day, you still couldn’t say. Though, in a way, the outlaw had saved your life. He’d sent you right back out into the blizzard after deciding you were much too small and pathetic to pose a threat, offering a small reward and the name of one of his enemies who was camping nearby in exchange for a night’s rest in the warm shelter of his little home.

Only an _idiota_ would have turned him down.

But that wasn’t the only way Flaco had saved your life.

It was purely dumb curiosity that brought you back the second and third time, wondering what had brought the rough edged man up to such a remote location. A man of his caliber certainly wasn’t about to willingly turn over his life story to some stranger who’d stumbled into his hideout. So it started out with jobs. Each trip you made up the mountain was a new job opportunity and a chance to learn a fraction more about the gunslinger. At first it really was just bits and pieces of information you had to piece together, but the longer you lingered around his ankles like a lost puppy, the longer his stories grew. He even allowed you to stay and warm up in his cabin now, when he had initially shoved you back out into the cold after handing over your payment and little bit of trivia from his life. His stories sent you to distant places you’d only heard about, making your head swim with images of horses thundering through deserts and skies filled with gun smoke.

You’ll never forgot the first real story you got out of the outlaw. A tale of forbidden love and stolen horses that brought a gleam to his eye and a deep laugh in his chest. You had been curled up on the floor close to the fire he’d kindled to life after you’d returned from a job with blood spattering your face and clothes. Knees were pressed up to your chest and an awestruck look rested on your face as you listened intently to him spin his story, much like a child would. Never again would you see a gleam in his eyes like that until you found a cigarette card bearing his resemblance at the end of your pack of smokes.

Holding it up for a moment, you lifted the cigarette from your lips, bringing the card closer to your face until your brows lifted in surprise. Darting your gaze between the man cleaning his gun at the table and the shockingly handsome young man in the artwork you wondered if the image was anything similar to what the outlaw had been like in his younger days.

“Whatchu got there, _retaco_?”

Slowly handing over the card, eyes still glued to the image, the dark-haired outlaw placed aside his gun before plucking it from your grasp. Sniffing a bit, the card was turned a few time between his finger before that wonderful gleam you’d caught before returned.

 “ _Voy a ser condenado_ , I can’t believe those fools are still making these things. Ay, I had the looks back in the day but they should update it with _mis miradas madura_ , eh _chica_?”

The smirk and wink he offered brought a warm flush to your face, unable to form a response or even so much as nod before he threw his head back and laughed. He leaned forward a bit and tossed the card back to you, making you to fumble to catch it as he spoke with a chuckle.

“Loosen up there, _chica_. I’m only having a little fun with you.”

You were certain that he was, but that didn’t stop you from pulling the card out of your coat pocket once you mounted your horse again and began to leave, filthy and sinful images running through your head that made you shiver and quickly shove the card out of sight once more.

In truth, you hadn’t a clue when you began to find the outlaw so attractive. Was it when he handed over enough cash to pay for that new thoroughbred you had wanted after a simple mission to intercept a supply wagon? Or maybe it was when he muttered that single ‘thank you’ when he’d caught you leaving two fresh elk carcasses outside his cabin? Whenever it was you’d decided upon the wanted man’s attractiveness, you would never admit your desire for him loud, especially after that night in your tent when you were left with just your sensitive nerves and wandering thoughts.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you found yourself leaning forward quite a bit in the saddle, meaning you were on the telltale slop leading up to Cairn Lake. Your frozen fingers gripped the reins as tight as you could and you nudged your horse on a bit faster, wanting to reach to potential fire as quickly as possible. Even through the horrendous blizzard you could faintly see a fire flickering through the small window of the cabin as you reached the top of the slope. Trotting over the ice sheet, you more fell out your saddle then slid off, leading your horse over and tying him in the little makeshift stall. Unfortunately you were too frozen to even think about spreading some hay for the beast right then, so you shoved your hands under the armpits of your coat and waded through the knee deep snow to the door.

You opened and closed the door as quickly as you could, not wanting to risk an angry Flaco berating you for letting the snow and cold in, but you were quite surprised with what you did receive from him.

“Ay, look what the cat dragged in! Quickly, sit. I had a feeling you would show up.”

Flaco Hernández expecting **you** to come? And _**preparing** _ for it?

Turning from the door, you were met with the familiar sight of the outlaw in his favored chair, carving away at a piece of wood while the fire roared warmly. There was a new sight by the fire, though, which was a large pile of rather warm looking furs. As was that… coffee? Certainly you were dreaming. This couldn’t be the outlaw you’d spent the last year and a half doing dirty work for.

“Well? Going to warm up or do I have to toss you back into the snow?”

You shook your head quickly, teeth chattering as you made your place by his feet at the fire, taking up an armful of furs and wrapping them snugly around yourself. Flaco gave what seemed to be a content grunt and returned to his carving, the cabin going silent for a few moments aside from the fire and the wind howling outside. Eventually, he broke the silence again with the thunk of his knife as he drove it into the wooden table. Carving in one hand, he reached through the number of bourbon bottles strewn about and retrieved a shining coffee cup, reaching it out for you to take with numb fingers.

“Get some of that in you before your bones freeze, eh? And get that coat off, let it dry and you stay under those pelts. Can’t have my _pequeñ_ _a_ _asesin_ _a_ up and dying on me over a blizzard.”

The way he chuckled as he spoke sent a different kind of chill down your spine, but you listened to his orders. Dropping the furs for a moment, you placed aside your hat that had somehow managed to stay on through the blizzard before beginning to unbutton your coat, only now realizing why the cold had you succumbing so easily. With an embarrassed flush rising to the bridge of your nose, you made sure to look away from the older man as you slid off your coat and tossed it aside, revealing the silk and lace top you wore that exposed nearly everything.

“Well, now. What’s this, _chica_? A gift for me?”

You couldn’t tell if the man was poking fun at you or not with the way he leaned forward in his chair and gave a sultry grin. You had an excuse for the top, though your lips seemed to be frozen shut at the moment, leaving you unable to explain your infiltration job and how you had been required to dress like a lady for the evening. That last thing on your mind when you left was changing out of the top, all you had thought about that evening after several disgustingly rich pigs had groped and attempted to flirt with you was Flaco. You’d daydreamed of how he’d swoop in and scare away those swine with a curl of his lip and a snarl before leading you off somewhere more private.

Now the daydream made you feel utterly ridiculous, not only for forgetting to change your top, but for even **imagining** that the gunslinger would protect you like that.

A cup of coffee was finally in your grasp and the furs were around your body once more, sincerely hoping the warmth that you felt flood your face wasn’t too visible as the outlaw continued to stare you down with that damn smirk. You dared not look at him more than a glimpse from your side eye, wondering if he was thinking as hard as he appeared to be. Had your silence thrown him off guard? Or was he thinking up a job to send you out on for intruding on his home in the middle of a blizzard? You got your answer he he finally leaned back in his chair and spoke again.

“I know you came for work, and I just so happen to have a very special job that only you can help me with.”

You perked up at the offer of helping him out, having grown so accustomed to working for him that you found great pleasure in killing in his name. The furs slid from your shoulders a bit, and you slightly lowered the mug you held, giving him an attentive look that made him grin and chuckle once more.

“Someone is eager, eh? I like that. Now, come here, I don’t bite.”

Come closer? You’d never been closer to Flaco than the distance between the fire and his feet, so you couldn’t help it when you moved rather sluggishly. Was he about to attack you? Had he finally decided no one who knew so much about him and his life could live? Nonetheless, you stood, allowing the furs to fall from your body and taking a half step towards where he sat like a king in his throne. He smirked at you, leaning back a little more and allowing his legs to spread a bit. You knew better than to take it as an invitation, but the sight and indecent thoughts that flooded you head still made you swallow thickly.

“Closer.”

Another half step.

“Almost there.”

Finally, a full step, and you were positioned between his boots, looking down at him as his eyes gave you a once-over.

“Good, good. Sit on my lap, won’t you?”

You blinked in surprise, almost choking on how thick the air had grown in the cabin, and your expression made the man smile and reach out to place a firm hand on your hip.

“I’m not going to hurt you. You still need warming, I can help.”

Oh god, oh god, oh lord. This had to be a dream. No way was this real. You were dreaming this, dreaming of **the** Flaco Hernández holding your hips and pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap. You were imagining that seductive glint in his eyes and the way he licked his lower lip as your hands pressed to the firmness of his chest that rested beneath his thick fur coat. You wished it was a dream, yet there was no dreaming up how slowly the gunslinger removed his gloves. There was no imagining how those murderous hands reached up and stroked the side of your face and cupped your cheek like you were the most valuable thing in the world. You could never picture the beautifully dreamy look on the man’s grizzled features as his thumb brushed over your lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he spoke, he hand that still rested on your hip gripping a bit tighter and almost rocking you into his lap.

“You think I don’t notice how you look at me, _chica_? How often you come running up here to see if I have work for you? I may be old, but I have seen desire before, and you have got it bad.”

The second pull was harder, managing to make you gasp this time as you felt the line of his shaft through his trousers.

“You run off so quickly, killing whoever I ask, whenever I ask, and rush back with that smile on your face and your gun still smoking. You like taking care of old Hernández, eh?”

You didn’t dare speak, not wanting to risk shattering this too-good-to-be-true moment and simply nodded, savoring in the warmth of his chuckle as he brought his lips close to your ear.

“Well, perhaps it’s my turn to take care of you, _princesa_ _._ ”

The moan that escaped your lips was one of pure surprise and excitement, your hands withdrawing slightly from his chest as his hands moved to work open your pants. He clearly knew what he was doing, drawing soft gasps and whines from you as his fingers teasingly stroked you through the denim of your pants and his hot breath lapped at the sensitive spot right behind your earlobe. Unable to stop yourself, you found yourself seeking out more friction and reaching one of your own hands between your legs in an attempt to press Flaco’s fingers harder into the seam of your pants. Unfortunately, that action stopped him entirely, and he hummed bemusedly as his larger, calloused hand wrapped around your own.

“Ah, ah. None of that. Let me work my skills and you enjoy the ride.”

Whining indignantly, you allowed the outlaw to place your hand back upon his chest and resume his ministrations. His lips moved down your neck as he teased you, the scrape of his facial hair on your frost chilled skin combined with his touch drawing pleads for more from your lips. It seemed he wouldn’t be listening to your demands anytime soon, so to sate yourself at least a little, you worked his fur coat open and found the broad expanse of his chest hidden beneath a faded green shirt with just a peek of dense hair emerging from the open collar. Your wandering hands explored as much as you could reach, feeling his barreled chest through the thin fabric, allowing your fingers to slip underneath and find a rather lovely happy trail and more scars than you could count on both hands. It seemed the gunslinger was enjoying your curious touches, though, as he offered a pleased growl against your skin.

“Such a curious little thing, prying into my life now exploring my person as you please. It’s only fair that I explore you in return.”

Oh, you enjoyed the sound of that.

Every nerve in your body was alight with anticipation and you found yourself holding your breath as Flaco’s hand finally found the inside of your pants and your awaiting cunt. As those magical fingers slowly dragged back and forth across your lips the breath you had been holding was released in the form of a shaky moan, your hands bracing you on the man’s chest and preventing you from collapsing into him entirely. His mouth was off your neck now, leaning back to watch his handiwork and admire the delicious expressions you gave. Your eyes were blissfully shut as you rocked your hips into his rhythmic movement, slowly looking down at him and feeling your heart jump at how he licked his lips again. Oh, how you desperately wanted to kiss him, not just to wipe that grin off his face but to finally know if he tasted like the whiskey he drank or not. Before you could voice or act upon that desire, however, a large finger was slipped inside you that made you cry out the man’s name.

His digits were much larger than your own, and easily felt a dozen times better. He only had one inside you and was simply working it in and out, yet you were already putty in his hands. Every nerve in your body was on fire, sweat had begun to form on your brow now and the blizzard you’d trudged through to get here was far from your mind. All of your senses had been enveloped by the infamous criminal, and it seemed he’d become quite taken with you as well.

“Your thighs are shaking so much, _hermosa_. How long have you been wanting this? How many nights have you cried my name into the dark?”

Words were failing you at the moment, leaving you unable to do more than keen loudly in response to his questions. The truth was too long and too many. You’d wanted the man shortly after having his gun in your face for the first time, and now, with his fingers working wonders on you, you were no longer ashamed to admit that fact to yourself.

When a second finger joined the first inside you, your arms gave out, leaving you clutching at Flaco’s back from under his coat and resting your head on his broad shoulder. He found great pride in having you moan and beg for him so close to his ear, and that grin he wore only broadened when the rough pad of his thumb found your clit and you had to bury your face into his coat to muffle a scream. He was good and he knew it. Too good, in fact. The combination of his thumb on your clit and his fingers curling inside you left your entire body trembling and the knot in your gut winding tighter and tighter. No longer could you moan, only gasp and keen as you grew ever closer to the precipice of pleasure.

Until suddenly he stopped moving.

Your eyes shot open, leaning back to give him an indignant look only to be met with a serious glare that had you practically melting. The hand holding your hip lifted to your chin, holding in firm between his fingers as he brought your face so close to his you felt his hat being pushed back and your noses brushed together.

“Who do you belong to? Who is the only man who makes you feel this good? Tell me, _chica_ , and I will let you cum.”

Swallowing the excess saliva that had formed in your mouth, you finally spoke.

“You...”

“ _Q_ _ué_?”

“You do.”

“I don’t think I quite heard you, little one. If you are too shy to answer then I suppose I can’t finish the job.”

Gripping the front of his shirt, you felt his fingers curl inside of you slightly and that was enough to get you to shout the answer he was looking for.

“You! I belong to you! Every bit of my body, every drop of my blood belongs to Flaco Hernández! You’re the only one I want!”

His hold on your chin tightened as he pulled you in to meet his lips, his fingers finally getting you back to work and bringing that wave of bliss rushing closer. His mouth easily overtook yours, tongue claiming dominance you didn’t bother fighting for. He tasted like spices, cigar smoke, and his signature bourbon. He could tell how close you were, and when you both were out of breath and your climax was near, he pulled back just enough to growl against your mouth.

“Cum, _mi princesa_. Cum for Flaco.”

And so you did.

His name falling from your lips and your entire body tensing as lava flowing through your veins and fireworks burst behind your eyelids, you let yourself fall apart in the hands of one of the most wanted outlaws in the country. He urged you through your orgasm with gentle praises and soft caresses along your pussy, making your body twitch with aftershocks and causing you to moan softly. Finally, once the waves of pleasure had subsided, you collapsed fully against the man’s chest, your arms loosely wrapped around him and your face pressed against his neck. Watching as Flaco took the time to lick his fingers clean, a soft tremble of want wracked your body again, one that he felt and couldn’t help but chuckle at.

“Are you satisfied, little one?”

You nodded silently, fighting to keep your eyes open now. The powerful orgasm had taken what little energy hadn’t been sapped away by the blizzard, and the warmth that crept through your limbs made it incredibly difficult not to fall asleep then and there.

The gunslinger took notice of this, and adjusted your position in his lap so he could take you in a bridal hold, standing with a soft grunt before he crossed the cabin and laid you upon the soft pelts and blankets that lined his bed. His ungloved hand found your face again, caressing your cheek with the tenderness of a newlywed husband and allowing a smirk to cross his face.

“Rest. I’ve got another job for you when you wake.”

Through your lidded eyes, just before they embraced sleep, you caught sight of him palming a rather noticeable bulge in his trousers, and you decided it definitely wasn’t mistake to make the trip up in the middle of a blizzard.

**Author's Note:**

> who asked for this? nobody. literally nobody. I decided of my own free will to use my free time and write this mess. this is writing, the is what it’s about. dear god it’s me please forgive me for what i've put into the world


End file.
